Coming To Terms

by Patricia Watters

  Jerry placed his napkin on the table. "I'm not hungry either. We might as well go back to the ship. This whole day's been hell."

  Andrea couldn't deny that.

  By the time they returned to the ship, where Alessandro would have cocktails waiting for her in his stateroom, the idea of going to his cabin for drinks had lost its appeal and Andrea didn't know why. Jerry had been a complete jerk from the time they left for dinner, they'd barely spoken three words without shooting verbal darts at each other, and the singular moment of pure delight they'd shared when the flamingos came marching out had been so brief, she couldn't visualize the look on Jerry's face now. But maybe her mindset would change when she'd see Alessandro, she decided, as she closed herself in her stateroom to freshen up.

  With a drink to settle her nerves, and Alessandro's words of admiration to help lift her self- esteem, she might be ready to shed her inhibitions and let nature take its course. Still, the image of Alessandro's lips where only Jerry's had been was troubling.

  CHAPTER 7

  Having a romantic fling seemed exciting when she started on the cruise and she couldn't stand the sight of Jerry, but now, the thought of finding herself in bed with a man other than Jerry was like venturing into unfamiliar territory, and the only time she'd done that, during those sheltered years of growing up as the only child of Barbara and Carter Ellison, was when she defied them both and ran off to marry Jerry. Moving from a twenty-two-room mansion overlooking an estuary into a two-room apartment with a view of a concrete playground was definitely venturing into unfamiliar territory.

  After slipping into a pair of designer jeans, a modest knit top, and a plain brown blazer, she left to join Alessandro. She had a mindset against letting him do anything physical including the goodnight kiss, but with a week left to the cruise there was still time to shed her inhibitions and see what romance in the fast lane would be like. Jerry hadn't wasted time moving into the fast lane. Maybe that's what bothered her most. After twenty-five years of loving him, and bearing his children, and keeping him happy in bed, he had no problem shoving that aside and welcoming another woman in her place. But she couldn't fault Jerry. She'd been turning her back to him and feigning sleep for months.

  Alessandro welcomed her with a light kiss on her forehead. "Ah, querida," he said, taking her hand and drawing her into the room. "You did come as promised. I hoped you would, but when you didn't come as soon as you returned to the ship, I wondered if you'd had second thoughts after spending an evening with your husband."

  "My husband and I only celebrated our anniversary to please our daughters," Andrea said, "but it wasn't a good evening. My stomach was so queasy I could barely get the food down."

  Alessandro eyed her with understanding. "Then you must be hungry, querida. I'll send for room service."

  "No, please don't bother. My stomach's still in a knot. I just need to relax."

  "Make yourself comfortable then. I'll mix a drink to calm your nerves and we'll enjoy a movie, and maybe a little cuddling." Alessandro gave her and engaging smile.

  Andrea laughed lightly, a nervous laugh to release her anxiety. "A drink and movie would be nice but please, nothing more. I'm not ready for that."

  "As you wish. Like I said, I don't want to rush you."

  Feeling vastly relieved with Alessandro's assurance, Andrea hung her handbag on the back of a chair, lowered herself to the bed, slipped off her shoes, and lounged against the pillows propped against the headboard.

  Alessandro went to a wet bar to mix their drinks. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "The cocktail I'm mixing is made with banana liqueur, rum, orange and pineapple juice, apricot brandy, and Galliano." After measuring and adding the contents, he gave the mixture a little stir, and handed her the glass.

  While Andrea slowly sipped, savoring the drink's fruity sweetness while enjoying the creeping effects of the alcohol, Alessandro stretched out beside her on the bed, propping his upper torso on his elbow. "Yellow Bird, the drink is called," he said in a low, soft voice, while looking at her. A very appealing smile touched his nice masculine lips. "A Yellow Bird for my little South Carolina bird," he added, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  His little South Carolina bird. How sweet. Andrea took another sip, settled back and sighed. All the tension of the day seemed to be vanishing with the drink, and for the first time in months, she felt at ease.

  Then Alessandro sat up, took one of her feet in his hand, and began to massage it. His palm curved around her arch, and his thumb caressed her instep, as he said, in a soft, soothing Italian accent, "Relax, cara mia. Let the tension of the day with your husband go. He'll be out of your life soon and things will be fine."

  "Yes," Andrea said lazily, the alcoholic drink finding its way down, warming her all over, making her lethargic. "This is just what I need. Thank you, Alessandro."

  As Alessandro massaged first one foot, then the other, while Andrea continued sipping the drink, she became drowsy, and before long, her eyelids felt heavy.

  "You're tired, querida," Alessandro said. "Close your eyes and let your worries go. And rest. Tomorrow, when we dock on Andros Island, I'm taking you to a special place where only islanders go. A place for lovers."

  "Umm," Andrea said, dreamily, "a place for lovers..."

  ***

  Andrea awakened, confused. When she sat up, a pain shot through her head, which felt so heavy she wondered if her neck would be able to hold it up. Then she realized she had a hangover. It never occurred to her that having a drink with rum and brandy and whatever Galliano was, on a near empty stomach, was a bad idea, especially for someone who rarely drank. But last night it was exactly what she needed.

  She glanced around in the dusk of the stateroom and realized it was long past midnight. Looking at the digital clock on the bedstand, she noted that it was four in the morning. The bed was still made, and she was on top of the covers the way she'd been when she fell asleep, but Alessandro was gone. She couldn't imagine what he must think, his querida, his little South Carolina bird, falling asleep.

  She clicked on the light on the bedstand and saw a note pinned under the ash tray. Lifting it from the table, she read: You were very tired, querida, and I knew it was best to let you sleep, but I am in the casino. I look forward to our evening in Andros Town tomorrow, or perhaps it is tonight by now. I hope you are rested, my little South Carolina bird. Until tonight then. Alessandro.

  Andrea folded the note. She'd like to stay and apologize for falling asleep, but she wasn't ready for Jerry and the rest of the passengers to know she'd spent the night in Alessandro Cavallaro's stateroom, and what that implied, even though absolutely nothing happened.

  Standing, she waited for the room to stop spinning, then straightened her clothes, slipped into her shoes, and reached for her handbag, finding it on the seat of the chair, which gave her pause. She was sure she'd hung it on the back of the chair. But then, the day with Jerry had been so stressful that she barely remembered anything once she stepped into Alessandro's stateroom and was welcomed by his warm smile, and sweet kiss on the forehead, and after he handed her the drink and began massaging her foot, everything melted into bliss.

  She sighed dreamily while contemplating the evening ahead. Alessandro mentioned he'd be taking her to a place for lovers, but she'd fallen asleep before he could tell her anything about it. Although she was curious to know more, she'd wait and be surprised. She liked the idea of Alessandro simply announcing he'd be taking her out, as if they were already lovers…

  Gigolos are waiting to play you for all you're worth.

  She dismissed Jerry's words. Alessandro was not that kind of man, she told herself. As she let herself out the stateroom she'd hoped to find the passageway vacant at four in the morning, but when she peeked out, she saw a man at the far end of the passageway. She turned in the opposite direction and headed toward her stateroom. Seeing light under the door, she wondered what Val was doing up this early in the morning.

  When she ent
ered the stateroom she found Val standing in a long T-shirt while rubbing her hair vigorously with a towel. Val smiled when she saw her. "Good morning," she said. "I just got back a few minutes ago myself." She tossed the towel on the bed, pressed her hands to the small of her back and stretched. "That was one energetic night, but since I only have seven more nights to convince the man he needs a sugar baby, I wanted to give him a good sampling of what lies ahead, and I did. He was smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary when I left."

  Andrea looked at Val's sleek body and wondered if Jerry engaged in all the playful antics with her or if he just got on with it. The thought of him being playful with Val was disturbing. That had always been special to their marriage. None of her friends talked about frolicking with their husbands, and she'd always felt sorry for them for missing out on the fun of lovemaking. She still couldn't imagine Jerry having a sugar baby, knowing if the girls found out they'd be so disillusioned they'd never look at him with adoration again.

  "So, you got your night with Alessandro," Val mused. She started brushing the tangles out of her hair. "I was wondering how long you'd hold out. He'd be one nice sugar pup if he was in the market, but with all his money, he doesn't need a sugar mommy."

  Andrea eyed Val with uncertainty. "Then Alessandro really does have a villa in Majorca and a sixty-four-foot yacht?"

  Val bent over, brushing her hair toward the floor. "You'd better believe he does, and more. It's common knowledge. Every time he's been on one of these cruises he's always been dropped off and picked up by a chauffeur-driven limo, and you can tell it's not a rented job. The chauffeur knows him well, so he must have a home on the east coast too." She set the brush on the bedstand, winked at Andrea, and said, "So, after a night with him what did you think?"

  "I don't know," Andrea replied. "I fell asleep."

  "Honey, I'm talking about before you fell asleep, what you thought of that package of his."

  Andrea looked at her, baffled. "What package?" When Val stared at her like she was backward, she realized what they were talking about. "Oh, you mean that."

  "Yes, that. Alessandro's is a state-of-the-arts sex machine. I got the honor of checking it out a couple of years back." She sighed. "He would have been an amazing sugar daddy, but he's not into the sugar bowl scene. Turned me down gently, and with Italian finesse." Brows gathered, she said, musingly, "I actually think he's looking for a wife. He never plays the field on these cruises, and he seems to gravitate toward older women. Maybe you're finally the one."

  Andrea's mind shifted between the elation she felt that Jerry was wrong about Alessandro being a gigolo, and the uneasiness that, for Alessandro, this could be more than a shipboard romance. "Well, like I said, nothing happened. He mixed me a drink, I lounged on the bed, he rubbed my feet, and the next thing I knew it was four in the morning and he was gone. But he left a note saying he'd see me tonight. He's taking me to a place on Andros Island. A place for lovers."

  "That sounds very romantic and very Alessandro." Val gave her a droll grin. "But afterwards, I sincerely hope you won't fall asleep, at least not until you check out his package. That's what lovers do."

  "We're not at that point. Relationships take time to build. We'll probably watch a movie and maybe cuddle a little." Though even that idea had lost its appeal, so maybe it was time to accept her lot in life as a sexless, middle-aged divorcee. Not such a bad idea. With Jerry out of the picture she'd be free to visit the girls more, get to really know the grandchildren, maybe even spend time visiting her parents and not be so testy with her dad.

  She let out a little soft laugh. With Jerry out of her life she'd be daddy's little silver-spoon-fed-princess again. But then, maybe living in a villa in Italy wouldn't be so bad either. She could fly to South Carolina regularly on Alessandro's jet, or if he didn't have one, she'd convince him to get one so she could visit the girls.

  Holding that thought, she decided to focus her attention on her upcoming evening with Alessandro on Andros Island, specifically how to dress. What does one wear to a place for lovers? With a man-of-the-world like Alessandro, it should be something classy and chic. Maybe she'd check out the little boutique shops on the ship. She'd seen some trendy outfits. And beneath whatever she wore she'd be daring, even if Alessandro would never see what it was.

  The black set with the peek-a-boo lace came to mind.

  But then the image of her wearing the set for Jerry emerged.

  A place for lovers.

  She wasn't so sure now. She was having trouble keeping the lovers straight.

  CHAPTER 8

  As the cruise ship dropped anchor at Andros Town on Andros Island, the sun was setting. The stop was to include a short visit for passengers to see one of Andros Island's many blue holes, the circular natural pits that plunged hundreds of feet deep through rock and coral to the murky depths below, reflecting the sky back as blue holes. They'd also attend a feast where a wild boar would be roasted on a rotating spit and islanders would do a fire dance. The cruise ship would leave at ten o'clock that night, so passengers were expected to return to the ship by nine.

  While Jerry stood watching a circle of passengers taking their turns at attempting the limbo while waiting to disembark, he spotted Andrea standing across the deck from him. In head-to-toe Giorgio Armani—a crocodile-printed military jacket with crystals and sequins, and skin-tight black leggings paired with crystal-encrusted leather boots—she didn't look bad for a woman in her forties. Hell, she didn't look bad for a woman of any age. He'd never seen the outfit so he assumed she purchased it from one of the upscale shops on board to impress her Italian stud.

  She glanced at her watch then looked around, so he assumed she was waiting for the guy. Then she pursed her lips and folded her arms, and her fingers began tapping impatiently against her bicep. Her obvious annoyance gave him a Machiavellian sense of pleasure. She looked up and caught him watching.

  Deciding to ruffle her feathers a little more than they already were, he walked up to her, and said, "You look pissed. Is your lover keeping you waiting?"

  She eyed him indifferently. "That's none of your business."

  "I know. Just thought I'd initiate some polite conversation."

  "Now that you have, you can leave." She angled her body away from him.

  "By the way, you look like a million dollars."

  She turned, and her eyes widened with surprise. "Then you like my outfit?"

  "No, but Cavallaro will. You look like a woman who wants to get screwed."

  In past years he would have made that crack to Andrea in playfulness, and she would have followed up by seducing him and proving he was right, but the chic, spangled outfit he wanted to rip from her body for the sole purpose of hauling her to bed, was not intended to please him, which she reaffirmed by saying with irony, "Then I've accomplished my goal."

  It bothered him that she sounded like she meant it. But what could he expect? He'd humiliated her when she wore the sun back dress for their anniversary, and he'd given her every indication that he had something going with Val. And now he couldn't shove aside the thought of her being with Cavallaro. Yet, pride kept him on the offensive and words he hadn't intended to say just popped out. "Just a little heads up. When you do it with Cavallaro, be sure to move a little, let the guy know you're still alive. It helps a man's ego."

  A tiny flare of light came into her eyes. "Alessandro will know I'm alive." She looked beyond him and smiled.

  He followed the direction of her gaze, and Alessandro, spotting her, walked directly up to her, slipped an arm around her waist pulling her to him, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Sorry I'm late, querida," he said while peering down at her. "Am I forgiven?"

  Andrea gazed up at him. "Of course."

  "So now I'll take you to that place for lovers. Are you ready?" Before Andrea could reply, Alessandro glanced at Jerry, as if noticing him for the first time, and said, "Excuse me senor, I forgot my manners." He extended his hand. "I am Alessandro Cavallaro
, and you are...?"

  "Your lover's husband," Jerry said, ignoring Alessandro's extended hand.

  Alessandro withdrew his hand. "So you must be Jerry. Andrea has talked a lot about you."

  Jerry eyed him with contempt. "I'll just bet she has."

  Alessandro ignored the barb. "Then you'll loan me your wife for the evening. It's my understanding that the two of you are travelling as unattached."

  "What do you want with my wife, Cavallaro?" Jerry asked, pointedly.

  "Ah, the jealous husband. I want what any man would want with such a beautiful woman. Her enjoyable company for the evening."

  "Like hell you do. You're either after her money or her family's money."

  Andrea looked at Alessandro, and said, "Please don't be offended by my husband. He's having trouble accepting the fact that there are men who might find a better use for me than just for verbal sparring."

  Alessandro let out a deep laugh and said, while peering down at her, "I assure you, cara mia, what I have in mind for us after we return from the Pirate's Cove tonight will be anything but verbal sparring." He looked at Jerry. "So if you'll excuse us, senor." He took Andrea's arm and ushered her toward the gangway where passengers were disembarking.

  "It's a little walk to the Pirate's Cove," Alessandro said, while guiding Andrea by the elbow, "but it will give you a chance to see the village."

  "That's fine." Andrea tried to keep her mind off what Jerry must be thinking, though she owed him no explanation about what was going on between her and Alessandro Cavallaro. Still, she had to resist the urge to glance back because if she did she might see the look of anger and disbelief on Jerry's face that came when she implied that she'd be going to bed with Alessandro and go rushing back to assure him nothing would happen.